


Light and Silence

by Zimra



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimra/pseuds/Zimra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dior receives one last gift from his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light and Silence

"Dior?"

He had not even heard her footsteps approaching, or the rustle of her dress as she sat down in the chair next to his. Nimloth resembled her mother’s kin with her soft brown hair and grey-green eyes, and she could move as quietly as any of them when she wished to.

"I heard that my uncle was here. Mablung told me that he went directly to you and left almost immediately, and that no one had seen you since." Her casual tone did not quite mask her curiosity and concern.

When Dior did not answer, only continued to stare at the wall straight ahead of him, Nimloth changed the subject. “I took the boys out to the forest today. We just returned; they’re exhausted, poor dears. I decided it was time to teach them a few things.”

"What did you teach them?" Dior asked quietly, still not looking at her.

"How to move in the forest without leaving a trace or making a sound," his wife said. "How to hide so well that only other Lindi can find them. They’ll need to know these things when they go east to visit their cousins." Nimloth smiled, and laid a hand on his arm. "The way Uncle told it, you never quite got the hang of hiding. The other children always found you first."

A tiny smile flickered across Dior’s face. “He was telling the truth. Almwë always said that my father was practically one of the Lindi himself, but I never achieved that kind of skill. Too much of my mother in me, he said. I stand out.” His face turned somber again, and Nimloth sighed. 

"Why was my uncle here? Ill news from Tol Galen?"

Dior gestured towards the simple wooden box that sat on the table before him. He heard his wife’s sharp intake of breath as she opened it, watched out of the corner of his eye as she recoiled from the light and then slowly leaned forward again. 

"Almwë brought it to me and left without saying a word," Dior heard himself say. "It was the silence of mourning." The Lindi communicated through silence as much as they did through speech, and living among them one learned to read it.

Nimloth sat very quietly for a moment, and Dior waited. At last she asked, “What will you do with it?”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. “I do not know. I don’t even know how to face my people with this news. Barely a year ago they lost their king and queen, and now I have to tell them that my mother is gone. Lúthien Tinúviel, most beautiful of all the Children of Ilúvatar, valiant foe of Morgoth and unrivaled in kindness.”

Nimloth smiled sadly, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She had been very fond of her mother-in-law, as had Elwing and the boys.

"And my father." Dior’s voice shook slightly. "The last time I saw him, he was strong enough to fight as hard as any elf. No matter how hard he tried, he never could stop fighting."

He felt Nimloth’s callused hands take hold of his, and she pulled him to his feet. She looked directly at him, her delicate features impassive. 

"Did you know they’ve started calling you ‘Dior the Beautiful’?" she asked, and he felt his face flush.

He had known, although nobody had yet called him that to his face, and he was not at all sure what to make of the title. “I-I don’t…” he stammered. 

"They say you are the very image of your mother." She reached down and drew the necklace from its box, holding it up to catch the lamplight. Then she undid the clasp and, putting her arms around his neck, fastened it. The jewel felt very heavy where it rested on his chest, and the soft light it emitted illuminated Nimloth’s face, making her look even more radiant than usual.

"It looks very well on you," she said, and he could hear the weight of sadness in her voice. He pulled her close and held her tightly for a moment, taking comfort in the soft sound of her breathing and the warmth of her embrace.

When she stepped back, she was smiling again. “Wear it when you speak to your people. You are your parents’ son, and you will carry their strength with you wherever you go.”

He nodded, agreement and thanks and determination and regret all bound up in that one simple gesture. Nimloth’s silence told him that she understood. 

When Dior finally spoke, it was with conviction as strong as the stones of Menegroth. “Have the court assembled. I will address them today. I just need a moment to prepare.”

Nimloth smiled, and left the room as quietly as she had entered it.

**Author's Note:**

> Almwë is an original character, Nimloth's mother's brother and a leader among the Green-elves of Ossiriand. In my headcanon, he is the unnamed Green-elf lord who brings the Nauglamir to Dior in _The Silmarillion_. He also appears in my fic _Inheritance_.


End file.
